Paradise Postponed (Not Quite Eden Book 2)

by Dominique Kyle

  The atmosphere on the way home was strained. It was hard work loading Jo’s car onto the truck when it wasn’t drivable. She barely spoke on the way home.

  At breakfast that morning, Sue had insisted that when I came back that evening I should stay for another meal, so we headed into the kitchen where Pete was already sitting at the big scrubbed pine table and Sue was at the oven.

  “How was it?” Sue asked brightly.

  “Crap!” Jo snapped and slammed out of the room.

  Pete looked enquiringly at Paul. Paul went over to the kettle and put it on. I sat down at the kitchen table.

  “Eve beat Jo into the final qualifying position in the first race, so Jo had to drive the Consolation and then she was right up Eve’s backside when Eve shoved a car out the way and the car wiped out Jo instead.”

  “Oh,” Pete said, his tone revealing he understood the import of the two statements. He looked over at me.

  “It wasn’t deliberate,” I said glumly. “It was coming straight at me off the barriers and I didn’t know what else to do.”

  He looked back at his dad, who had four mugs lined up and was pouring boiling water into them.

  “I suppose with a bit more experience she might have managed to steer around it, but that doesn’t mean that it wouldn’t have ploughed into Jo instead, she was right up Eve’s bumper and might not have had the time or the space to get out of the way. But with Eve hitting it towards the back end, it turned it straight at Jo and collided with her head on.”

  “Sorry,” I said, hanging my head. “I didn’t think about what it would mean for the car behind.”

  Pete shook his head. “I know you two are both from the same stable, so to speak, but you can’t be nice once you’re out on the track. Once you’re behind the wheel you’re competitors and you can’t pull any punches.”

  “I need to be careful not to endanger other vehicles though,” I said.

  Pete and I accepted a mug each off Paul and then he joined us at the table.

  “True,” Pete said. “But sometimes things just happen at speed, and it’ll take a while to get your eye in and your reactions tuned.”

  I took a cautious sip of the steaming brew.

  Paul was looking across the top of his mug at Pete. “I think she’s going to be really talented,” he said as though I wasn’t sitting right beside him. I saw Sue glance across at her husband.

  Pete nodded. “Well she’s just beaten Jo on only her second outing.”

  All three of them looked at me.

  “Did you do the go-karts maybe?” Paul asked.

  I shook my head. “I managed to get the occasional farm lad to let me have a go with their landrover. And I’ve driven my bike for a year now.” They appeared to be still waiting. “And I did pass my driving test about three months ago,” I proffered finally.

  Pete let out a snort of laughter. “And of course that makes all the difference!”

  A smile at last cracked Paul’s face as well. “I’d like to see that driving test instructor’s face if he could see her driving now. He might just revoke her licence…”

  Sue was laying knives and forks and mats in front of us all. I stood up to go. “Better I go now, don’t you think?”

  Sue frowned at me. “Not till after you’ve eaten, and that’s an order.”

  I subsided. I was really hungry and it smelled so good. But Jo could barely look at me at the moment. As though Pete had read my thoughts he said firmly, “You’re on our team now for the season, Eve.” His eyes sought his father’s for confirmation and appeared to receive it. “And Jo will just have to get used to it.”

  Jo never came down for that meal, so I left almost immediately afterwards and the only thing I could think to do to try to make it better was to ask what time I should return on Sunday to start working on Jo’s car.

  Back at ours I stopped short at the entrance.

  “Shoes off!” SHE ordered. “New house rule, shoes off at the door!”

  A new carpet was down. Thick and deep, and the colour and texture of moss.

  “Blimey!” I commented overawed.

  “Like it?” She was beaming proudly.

  There was a brand new sofa too. All velvety and squishy.

  I took off my boots and then my socks as well, closed the front door and curled my toes into the carpet. “Swish!” I responded.

  It seemed to please her well enough.

  And next morning, before hoofing off to the Satterthwaites, I meekly ate her cooked breakfast with Dad and Jamie and even might have said thanks.

  “Now then Jamie,” she said towards the end. “What revision do you have to do today?”

  He looked at her with hatred in his eyes.

  “You must be bang in the middle of your ‘O’ levels,” she pointed out.

  “GCSE’s,” Jamie corrected her in a disrespectful ‘du-u-u-r’ tone.

  Dad and I glanced at each other, our mutual guilt batting back and forwards between us in our dismayed gaze. It hadn’t even crossed my mind that Jamie was probably about to start his exams, and neither of us had even tried to help him with a revision plan.

  “So how many exams do you have this month?” Dad asked airily, trying to cover up our lack.

  Jamie looked sulky. I figured he’d been ecstatic that he’d been getting away with it. “I’ve had one already, last week. Then there’s another eight subjects with about fourteen separate papers and my music practical.”

  Dad and I avoided each other’s eyes. Neither of us was great at the whole academic thing. “Well good luck then, lad!” Dad said in a jolly voice. Then catching Pauline looking fixedly at him, he added quickly in a more authoritative tone, “and make sure you revise lots and don’t stay out late.”

  However, this obviously didn’t satisfy Pauline as she turned to Jamie and ordered, “Bring your exam schedule down and we’ll stick it up on the fridge and then we’ll all be able to keep track and help you with your revision timetable.”

  I could see Jamie hovering on the edge of telling her that it was none of her business, but after sneaking a glance from under his lashes at Dad, he muttered something that he didn’t dare make completely audible, and pushed back his chair to go and fetch it.

  “I’m off to sort out a car,” I said breezily and got up too. I thought I’d keep well out of this one.

  Jo, Paul and I set about assessing the damage. Pete came out and sat around like a Lord with his leg up on a crate, pointing at things and ordering us about. Sue came out with burgers for everyone at lunch time then reappeared at two thirty with cake.

  “She’s on a mission to fatten you up,” Pete aimed at me. “But don’t you be fattening me up as well Mum, without any exercise I’ll be piling it on!”

  She sat down on a stool in the corner and started fixing a harness. “You need up to three thousand calories a day to heal a major wound and plenty of dairy products to get your bones knitting strongly.”

  He pulled a rueful face at me behind her back and I hid a smile.

  After a few minutes she got up, “Sorry, I just really can’t stand the sound of metal on metal, it sets my teeth on edge.” And she disappeared off.

  Jo glanced after her. “She never even normally tries to join in,” she commented.

  “She’s nice, your mum,” I said.

  “Why, what’s your mum like?” Jo asked as though she’d never even bothered to stop and think about her own one.

  “I don’t have one,” I said.

  She straightened up. “Everyone has a mother or they wouldn’t exist.”

  “Well of course I didn’t just get dropped down the chimney by a stork,” I agreed. “It’s just that she died when I was six so it’s been a long time now.”

  “That explains it!” Pete exclaimed laughingly. “You’ve set off Mum’s orphan radar. She’s a sucker for it. The kitchen’s always full of cardboard boxes with something she’s looking after in it. Even baby mice that she knows full well she’ll be putting traps down
for in the hayloft in six months’ time. You must be sending out hormonal distress signals!”

  “Maybe,” I said cautiously.

  I was saved by Paul coming back in. “Are you lot slacking already?” He made yackety yak signs with one hand. And we got back to the job in hand.

  On Monday I had to face work again. I got in early, mainly to prove to Entwistle that he’d made the right choice in keeping me on, and partly to have to avoid walking past the men.

  The atmosphere was funereal. Entwistle went walk-about the forecourt several times more than normal, obviously keeping an eye on things. The men slunk around like dogs with tails between their legs and I didn’t bother speaking to them more than necessary. At one point Bolton came into the shed and said to me, “I’m sorry, Eve, what happened?”

  “Piss off!” I said fiercely without looking round, and he retreated. At least he’d made an attempt to apologise though.

  Rajesh rang. “Anything come of your report to Crime Stoppers?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Jamie hadn’t said anything to me. And I didn’t really know how to find out without having ‘casual’ conversation with Nasim.

  I logged in online with Crime Stoppers and found that they had sent me a question. Did I know the addresses of any of the people I’d named as being potentially involved?

  I rang Rajesh back. Should we give the address or not? Would that give it away that it was us?

  “I don’t care if it gives us away,” Rajesh said with feeling. “I just want that guy put away!”

  I guess it was his bollocks and knee caps that were on the line. So I went back to the Crime Stoppers’ page and put in the town, street name and number. I hesitated before I pressed enter, but I didn’t see what else we could do if we wanted to get rid of him.

  Then I went into Jamie’s room.

  “What?” He said aggressively, not looking up from the screen.

  “We need to talk,” I said.

  “I’m revising!” He snapped.

  “No you’re not,” I said. He was playing some game.

  I risked getting into a slapping match, or at least some sort of slanging match by taking the device off him.

  He must have known that the time would come when I would finally confront him, so he didn’t actually resist beyond briefly swearing at me.

  “Right Jamie,” I said firmly. “I know all about the cannabis farm and where it is, and what you and Sahmir are up to. And I also know that you were the one who came up with the location of it.”

  He stared at me open-mouthed like I was some kind of supernatural being. “How did you find out all that?”

  “Just because I’ve left school doesn’t mean I don’t still keep my ear to the ground,” I lied, hoping to keep him paranoid enough to keep in line for the rest of his school career.

  “Thing is Jamie, do you realise that the prison sentence for dealing any drugs, even cannabis is eight years? They may turn a blind eye to the odd packet in a pocket for personal use, but they don’t ignore dealing. And you’ve gone and got involved in farming the stuff! Have you worked out what you are going to say if the police ever bust this? How are you going to cover your arse?”

  He stared silently at me.

  “The best thing you can do for yourself is immediately stop having anything to do with the place. Make sure you never go there and make sure you stop dealing absolutely at once. If anyone you’ve been involved with asks why you’re stopping, say you want to concentrate on your exams. Are you understanding me?” I said severely.

  He said nothing.

  “And don’t forget that Tariq holds that grudge against us because of Nasim, and he may just try to dish the dirt on you to get his own back, so you really do have to have some innocent sounding answers to any questions asked of you by the police.”

  He cleared his throat. “Eight years? I thought they didn’t care about weed.”

  “Sorry, little bro,” I drawled. “I don’t write the law book.”

  It looked as though the bad news might be sinking in at last.

  “Promise me you’ll stop immediately,” I said.

  “I’ll think about it,” he muttered.

  I left him to it. It was over to him now. I couldn’t rescue him from this one. He’d have to use his common sense or suffer the consequences.

  The weather was getting hotter. At work we stripped off down to tee-shirts and jeans. Until I saw Steve Bolton staring at the bruising on my arms which although they had faded into browns and yellows, still looked distinctly like fingermarks.

  “What happened?” He asked again when we were alone in the shed.

  I snatched back on my repeat instinct to tell him to piss off. He had been the only one who’d been nice to me here in the beginning, and I had to be able to continue to work here without alienating everybody.

  So I just walked away without answering, and at tea break I got back into some long sleeved overalls and resigned myself to sweltering for the rest of the day.

  I somehow managed to make the same mistake that evening at the Satterthwaite’s, not imagining that any of them would give a second thought. But Pete was looking horrified.

  “What happened to your arms?”

  I glanced at the nasty white gash that scarred my upper left arm and shrugged. “Knife wound about six months ago. Got an infection in it and ended up in intensive care.”

  Jo glanced across. She’d seen it before but never asked about it. Pete waited till his sister was otherwise engaged and I was passing close to him, then caught hold of my right hand.

  “And these?” He queried quietly, brushing the bruises round my wrist with his own fingers.

  “What do you think about the fuel pump?” I asked as though he hadn’t spoken.

  He released my arm and looked searchingly at my face, but got the message. “I think we’ll be replacing it,” he agreed. The subject was never brought up again.

  Jaimi rang.

  “Have you made an appointment yet Eve?”

  “For what?” I said blankly.

  “For STD tests of course,” she said impatiently.

  “Oh, sorry, no.”

  “Why not?”

  “Jamie’s always got the computer…”

  “How does that stop you?”

  “It’s just I need time to look online and find out where the nearest clinic is,” I excused myself.

  “Right Eve, I’m making you an appointment and I’ll come in with you. I’ll meet you at the door.”

  “How come you know so much about this?” I asked defensively.

  There was an embarrassed pause at the end of the line. “Not long after Mark and I first became an item, one of his exs contacted him to tell him she’d got an STD so we both had to go along and get checked out.”

  “Yuk,” I said. “That’s disgusting.”

  Though, in retrospect, I don’t suppose that was the most supportive thing I could have come out with.

  True to her word, I received a text a bit later with a date and time and place. Six pm on Thursday. I tried to put it out of my mind, but I couldn’t. It made me feel sick and it made me want to pour boiling water over myself until all my skin fell off so that I could be clean again. But most of all I started to obsess about him. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to grind his arrogant face into the ground until it was a crunching mess of bone and jellied brain. I wanted to cut his intestines out and hang them on a fence to be pecked at by crows. But I knew I couldn’t. And I knew that even if in some alternative universe this would even be possible, it wouldn’t actually make me feel any better. So I lay on my bed and stared into space, wondering what I could do to him that would give me some sort of satisfaction.

  Next morning, I drove out early to the street where he lived. I parked round the corner and made sure my hair was tucked up out of sight. It was about seven. Any earlier and my progress down the street might be remarked upon. Any later and I might get seen by too many people. I walked down the st
reet trying to look as anonymous as possible, systematically posting a folded sheet of A4 into every single letterbox of every single house and flat on the street except his. Then I went back to the bike, replaced my beanie with my helmet, and drove off to work.

  Quinn was lying in wait for me when I got home that night.

  “Rob!” He exploded with a face like thunder.

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “He’s only gone and got banned by BriSCA! This weekend at Belle Vue. He’s just received the notification. Stupid bastard!”

  “Let me guess..?” I drawled.

  When I went online and looked up the disciplinary actions – there he was. Just as I had expected. Alcohol. Banned for the rest of the season. Served him right.

  Jaimi announced to the woman, “She’s been raped.”

  I looked daggers at her. Afterwards she told me unapologetically that she knew I’d never say anything myself, so she’d had to say it for me.

  A blood test, urine test, swab and card for the Rape Crisis helpline later, and I escaped.

  Jaimi took me to a bar afterwards to get me a drink, but when I got home afterwards I found my Dad sunk into the new green marshmallow-like sofa clutching a bottle of whisky, which wasn’t at all like him. Since there was no hairy creature huffing and snuffling round my feet and the place was quiet, I could tell that SHE wasn’t in residence this evening. Maybe they’d split up? Or was that too much to hope? Turned out it was.